


Talk to Transformer, and other Generators

by Remember_Ember



Category: Original Work, Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Complete crack, Crack, M/M, Other, Random & Short, Randomly Generated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:59:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24166984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remember_Ember/pseuds/Remember_Ember
Summary: A series filled with randomly generated chapters. Each chapter will include what site generated it. Tread with caution, this is complete crack.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Sean McLoughlin
Kudos: 3





	1. Talk to Transformer - Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to Transformer  
> https://talktotransformer.com/

**Mark heaved as he leaned forward on his hands and knees.  
** _(Excerpt from: Severed Realities, Alone and Afraid)_

The door leading to his master's chamber was forced open by Peter. A giant, unyielding face stared down at him from the darkened doorway.

"Peter," said Tiberius to his grandson. "You hear the sounds of battle outside?"

Peter gasped and ran towards the door, his excitement growing as he ran. "Yeah, but I see them on my end!" He burst out of the room to the sound of flying weapons being blown to bits. "They're going to the west! We can't hold them off! The upper tower's getting torn down!"

"I'm not going to lose them! Not yet!" He rushed back to check on Mark, knowing that if he let him fall to his death, he might not survive. It was the only way he could really do anything.

Mark's tears were beginning to build in the morning light. Not for himself, but for all the lilies and white chenopods that had been destroyed.

The vines around him caught his tear-drop moments before it hit the ground. "But why are you doing this? I'm trying to get you to join my cause!"

Peter put an arm around his shoulders, squeezing and leaning into him. The cracks seemed to get deeper.

He'd felt him do that before. Not sure what he did next, but the second he had decided on something and started moving, he had pulled him, and that was even before he had flung himself up to the neck of a nearby tree.

Well. Peter was not an idiot.

"I'm not letting you hit me with that," he told Mark, hands flying up into the air, dropping to his side. His elbows landed hard against the ground, while Mark's bare ankles wrapped around his waist, resting in a sort of crucifixion pose. "I'm not letting you pull this stunt, ya dummy!"

The cactus, now standing and watching, was not amused by his antics. "You have two options. Either leave the shack or leave it behind!"

Peter didn't budge. To be honest, he was really not that nervous of a creature. If he was going to have to take some kind of risks, he'd rather be jumping out of the way of a C-Class Grimm. After the little things he'd heard, Peter was already more confident than he'd been since he was eight.

The giant woolly eyeball on the back of the giant beast regarded him with small red irises before it looked up at the orange tree next to its skull, and grabbed hold of the lower branches and pulled them over the trunk. Once the branches were on the ground, it brought its mouth down to the tree trunk and started chewing it with its huge yellow teeth. There was a dull crunch, as it cut through the long trunk with those sharp teeth until it reached the base of the tree.

Its big eyes flicked wide open and widened in horror. A member of its species had fallen on its body from a great height, and no means to save it existed. A single slash from its big green sword would most likely end the life of this lifeform.

The robber attempted to pull away, but he was too late to do anything else. The blade of his sword sliced through the tree's bark, and the branch twisted and snapped, snapping off a branch and sending leaves and leaves everywhere.

The tree let out an ugly shriek and erupted in a huge cloud of red dust. The branches surrounding it immediately began to twist, crack, and split. Blood spray painted the forest ground, and the leaves surrounding the tree began to crumble as if it had come alive.

And then...

A sickly red flower erupted from the ground!

The white flower with large petals had an unusual pattern of purple and gold on it, forming a star-shaped pattern. Each petal was as smooth as hardwood and looked as if it had become unshakable and unscannable.

Heaven's pagoda?

_Pillox, it was very possibly a sacred flower!_

Once the white flower had blushed the same colour as it had when Peter's's knife had killed Mark Thirty-Six, it had been pierced by a seed, and grown to its full bloom.

  
"Another late game blow," thought Peter. "I've forgotten that you have access to our field portal. You're not as weak as I had thought."  
  
He picked the shield up, stepping back into the pitch-black sky. A grin spread across his face, and he raised the shield over his head, feeling it tighten around him. He became aware of a dull crackle of a strange magic, one that must be the product of the power-unit he had stored in the World Tree. That was why the weakened creatures simply melted to dust and ash around him, and why they couldn't fight back.

Suddenly, Peter's mental defences flared, and before he could resist, he screamed out, and the scream was filled with a face. It looked back at him, and he recognized it as one of his old drawings. The face looked out to him, and he was glad that it didn't smile.

Now Peter was beyond having nightmares and memories of his school days, so he focused on the entire scene in front of him: the living portrait had widened its mouth to reveal a scarred yellow eye, and the face looked much different than it had the night before. There were lines of disturbed dirt now, suggesting a great deal of violence. And the faded line of hair—

"Peter," Mark whispered, and he noticed for the first time that he was still standing slightly behind Peter's body. Mark looked up to see Mr. Peter, stony-faced and far too large to be working at an AT&T store, walk past. Mark kept his eyes off Peter for a few seconds, and then he said.

"Peter, do you ever read the security code?"

"We have a strict procedure for releasing information about our network," Peter replied. "You are not authorized to know that information, Mr. Wood."

Mark was angry. If a former top executive like Peter was working on U-verse security and didn't even know the security code then how was the company supposed to trust the security of their equipment? But Wood explained the policy:

"We do not know the specifics of how the Internet works. Nor do we have the resources to gather and test such information ourselves." Mark apologized and explained the organization needed better protection.


	2. Two Cute Uncles Shouting to the Beat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A randomly generated story made with: plot-generator.org.uk/story

Mark Fischbach had always loved private the park with its thoughtless, teeny-tiny trees. It was a place where he felt happy.

He was an adorable, caring, coffee drinker with brunette lips and beautiful hands. His friends saw him as a healthy, homeless hero. Once, he had even saved a grated old man that was stuck in a drain. That's the sort of man he was.

Mark walked over to the window and reflected on his beautiful surroundings. The moon shone like singing dogs.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather some _one_. It was the figure of Sean McLoughlin. Sean was a sweet writer with handsome lips and curvaceous hands.

Mark gulped. He was not prepared for Sean.

As Mark stepped outside and Sean came closer, he could see the flaky glint in his eye.

Sean gazed with the affection of 2255 arrogant pickled pigeons. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want affection."

Mark looked back, even more afraid and still fingering the warped blade. "Sean, I love you," he replied.

They looked at each other with sad feelings, like two clever, crowded cats thinking at a very clumsy funeral, which had jazz music playing in the background and two cute uncles shouting to the beat.

Mark studied Sean's handsome lips and curvaceous hands. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began Mark in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel the same way, and I never will. I just don't love you Sean."

Sean looked worried, his emotions raw like a breakable, broad book.

Mark could actually hear Sean's emotions shatter into 1567 pieces. Then the sweet writer hurried away into the distance.

Not even a cup of coffee would calm Mark's nerves tonight.

THE END


	3. Two Cute Uncles Shouting to the Beat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A randomly generated story made with: plot-generator.org.uk/story

Mark Fischbach had always loved private the park with its thoughtless, teeny-tiny trees. It was a place where he felt happy.

He was an adorable, caring, coffee drinker with brunette lips and beautiful hands. His friends saw him as a healthy, homeless hero. Once, he had even saved a grated old man that was stuck in a drain. That's the sort of man he was.

Mark walked over to the window and reflected on his beautiful surroundings. The moon shone like singing dogs.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather some _one_. It was the figure of Sean McLoughlin. Sean was a sweet writer with handsome lips and curvaceous hands.

Mark gulped. He was not prepared for Sean.

As Mark stepped outside and Sean came closer, he could see the flaky glint in his eye.

Sean gazed with the affection of 2255 arrogant pickled pigeons. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want affection."

Mark looked back, even more afraid and still fingering the warped blade. "Sean, I love you," he replied.

They looked at each other with sad feelings, like two clever, crowded cats thinking at a very clumsy funeral, which had jazz music playing in the background and two cute uncles shouting to the beat.

Mark studied Sean's handsome lips and curvaceous hands. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began Mark in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel the same way, and I never will. I just don't love you Sean."

Sean looked worried, his emotions raw like a breakable, broad book.

Mark could actually hear Sean's emotions shatter into 1567 pieces. Then the sweet writer hurried away into the distance.

Not even a cup of coffee would calm Mark's nerves tonight.

THE END


End file.
